


Beautiful Lady Things

by INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Foot Fetish, Gorgeous, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/pseuds/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon
Summary: This is an experimental piece, running off with the official LO canon that Hades has a serious foot fetish.For now, it will be a pretty much fluff-only one-shot. If there's enough interest, there may develop a second segment, which may be more NSFW....You'll have to let me know what you want....I blame Red for calling me out on how I was already heading this way....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redninja/gifts).

Hades rolled over in the bed, not caring that the sheets only covered one of his legs and half of his torso. 

He missed her....

It didn't matter that he would see her in another five minutes, after she came back from the bathroom. 

He missed her.

He missed the smell of her shampoo wafting into his nose when she laid her head on his scarred chest.

He missed the way she would gently trace along those scars, painting them over with precious memories and loving adoration.

He missed - 

"Hades, you should be up by now...."

He flopped over to stare at her, where she stood silhouetted against the yellow light over the bathroom sink, a vision in a black tulip skirt and lavender-colored blouse, with ruffles around the collar that somehow mimicked the way her hair was waving down over her ears. 

"Come again, sweetness...?"

"Did you forget?!"

He racked his brain. 

_Anniversary? No. Definitely not birthday. Work something? Uh-uh. Family something...?_

"Awwww, do we have to?!" He whined like a child as he rolled to sit up on the edge of the bed. "Sweetness, no, come on, let's just...."

"Aidoneus, we promised."

"But, but, but, b-b-but they're soooooo annoying! Trust me, five minutes into this stupid thing, you'll be begging to leave! We don't have to go!"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and he gulped. Her glare could have frozen Tartarus to an icicle.

"Hades, we're going to brunch. Hera and Amphitrite promised me this one will be nothing like you boys usually have...."

"Boyssss...?" He cocked an eyebrow at her as he rose to his feet, the sheet gliding from his bare skin....

"Yes. Because only boys whine about waking up early to get dressed in nice clothes and take a beautiful lady out to a meal in a nice restaurant. Now go. Get. Dressed...."

She turned on her heel and left the bedroom, swishing her hips so the frilly hem of her flaring skirt swayed oh so enticingly. 

_Dammit. Screwed that up...._

His eyes flitted to the pair of lavender flats that she'd forgotten by the bathroom door....

His heart kicked into a galloping beat, and he rushed into the bathroom to get dressed for brunch....

* * *

_Stubborn, infuriating...._

_Gods, I can't help it._

_He's just too cute! _

_I know he doesn't like this, but dangit, he promised. _

_What kind of Dread Queen would I be if I didn't insist we go to brunch today?_

_Yep. The fate of the realm depends on it._

_We're going to brunch, and that's that!_

She kept up her internal pep talk as she made her way into the kitchen. As she passed the doorway that led into the den, she absently patted her hand to one thigh; she'd barely been able to grab the 6 metal bowls with carefully inscribed names on the rims from the drainboard by the sink before she heard the echoing clatter of the pack's claws on the stone floor as they moseyed into the kitchen for breakfast. 

She snagged the pre-mixed Sunday special meal bag from the back of the counter by the fridge, and carefully poured the appropriate portion into each bowl. Then she turned to look at the rapidly-panting pack, focusing her alpha-stare especially on Cordon Bleu's rage-filled black eyes. 

"Sit."

Every one of the six but Cordon sat. 

"Cordon, I said SIT." She dropped her voice an octave and change. 

Cordon took one step forward, glaring at her the entire time without a sound. 

"Don't make me get your big black-velvet brother in here to pop your butt to the floor. Sit, furball."

Cordon sat. 

"Good. Now, everybody stay."

They all did. She grabbed two bowls, one per hand, and moved down the counter, keeping the silently sitting pack in her peripheral vision. She moved back to the waiting bowls, grabbed the next two, and lined them up along the baseboard with the others. Once the final pair were in place, she looked at the first one next to her foot. 

"Cordon, come eat."

The little furball zoomed like one of Zeus' lightning bolts, if lightning bolts could make utter rage and hatred seem so cute until you noticed the deadly silence. 

"Big John, you next."

She kept moving down the line of bowls, calling each dog by name, until all six wagging tails were in place, sticking out in the walkway in front of the long line of black cabinets. 

She went to the fridge for Cerberus' breakfast of pre-mixed egg and the remnants of souls too dark for normal punishments. With the blender jar in hand, she wandered back down the hall to Cerberus' bedroom. 

Well, at least that's what she called it. 

Really, it was just the dogs' general rumpus room. But most nights, Cerby usually claimed the large couch with ripped cushions as his just due for guarding both the King and Queen. 

And on Sundays, he slept in. Hard. 

She stifled a giggle as she peeked around the door frame, seeing three black paws suspended in midair over the back of the dark navy couch. Deep rumbling snores poured like a waterfall, and one of the visible paws - she wasn't sure if it was a front or back - twitched momentarily. 

The Queen of the Underworld grabbed the large pie-tin that rested on top of the free-standing cabinet by the door. She walked quietly over toward one end of the couch; it was then she realized she hadn't put on her cute matching flats before she stormed out of the bedroom. She squashed down the quick flaring irritation, just grateful that it meant she could sneak up on her good big boy and give him a fun surprise on his day off....

She placed the pie tin quietly, oh so quietly, on the floor a few feet from the end of the couch. She carefully unscrewed the lid from the blender jar, and then held the jar precariously over the pie tin. 

She tilted the jar, and the tangled pile of long legs and velvety black fur uncoiled from the couch, launching over the arm teeth first for his breakfast. 

She laughed loudly and ruffled his ears as her Cerby noisily slurped up his Sunday brunch....

"See, there's nothing wrong with a good brunch, is there, my good velvety boy you!"

"Ahem...."

* * *

Hades stood there in the doorway, cradling the soft lavender slippers in his large palms, as if they were precious relics beyond price. He kept his face in soft lines of apology, as she slowly rose to her bare feet. Those tiny bare feet that could walk all over his heart and soul and he'd constantly beg for more. 

He loved her, and he'd upset her. 

He'd make it up to her. 

"I thought you might need these before we go to brunch, sweetness."

She folded her arms over her chest, and the ruffles around the collar bunched up like the hackles rising around a lioness' powerful neck. "I thought you weren't going to go...." Her voice was stiff, but her eyes were beginning to twinkle as she played hard-to-get so he would have to go through with his apology.

"I will go anywhere with you, my little goddess. Will you take a seat?" He gestured with the slippers still cupped in his paired palms, a smoothly sweeping gesture of a request.

She sat on the arm of the couch, perched on her tiptoes to get all the way up there.

He came walking solemnly to her, lowering himself gracefully to one knee as he placed one of the slippers to the floor. He balanced the other slipped over his folded knee, and then bent slightly to cup her small foot between his hands. He splayed his long fingers over her heel and ankle, gently pulling upward so that she had to shift her balance to keep from falling over the curve of the arm of the couch. 

Once her foot was just a few inches above his knee, with him balancing her as easily and effortlessly as only a graceful being filled with power and magic could, he cupped her soft heel in his palm, freeing his other hand to grasp the slipper from its balanced perch on the angled platform of his knee. 

He slipped her toes into the slipper, and then caressed his blue fingertips over the entire length of her foot as he stretched the soft leather and cloth to encase her heel in its embrace. 

He leaned forward as the elastic in the top of the slipper grasped her ankle, placing his lips against the soft spot on the front of her knee before he lifted her foot just a little to begin lowering it back to the floor. 

He repeated the process with her other foot, exactly the same movements, exactly the same caresses and gentle touches. 

But before he could place that last soft kiss to her raised knee, she threw herself forward off the arm of the couch, knowing he would catch her. He did, his strong arms wrapping around her, as she smashed her lips to his. 

He lost himself in the kiss for a moment, but then he chuckled softly. She leaned back, still trapped in his arms, to glare at him. The effect was ruined slightly by the sparkle of love and passion in her wide eyes. 

"So, shall we go to brunch, my beautiful lady? I think I would like to take you out to a nice restaurant for a meal and make my brothers jealous...."


	2. Take my heels off, let my hair down, and make love to me....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is the NSFW followup. 
> 
> Y'all enjoy my further explorations of foot fetishism in the darkly toned bedroom of Underworld's King and Queen....

"Okay, I take it back! You were right! We should have stayed the hell home!"

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy yourself, sweetness...."

"But you love being right, you big blue jerk...."

He kept his gaze locked straight ahead as he pulled the car into the dark garage, refusing to let the smirk of triumph lift his lips. 

He put the car in park and turned off the engine, daring to glance sidelong at his grumpy wife. Her hair was mussed and the ruffly collar of her pale lavender blouse was rumpled and even slightly torn near the shoulder seam. 

"I'm sorry my brothers didn't leave the kids at home...."

She huffed out an irritated sigh, and reached for the door handle. But he smashed his finger on the buttons on the keyfob, locking the door before she could manage to get out. 

She glared at him, her eyes flashing with the anger she'd been trying to hide under a thin layer of just-this-side-of-irritated grumpiness, and he smiled softly as his heart jumped a little faster in his chest.

"I'm sorry they staged a food fight. But sweetness, I'm so glad you made me go. It made me realize more than ever how very much I love you, and how terribly lucky I am that you love me, too...."

She softened under his carefully calculated words, their effect targeted specifically to appeal to her emotional investment in their relationship. She knew how hard it was for him to be forthright with his emotions, and it always eased her into a receptive mood when he would be open with her like this. 

"Hades, I just wish it had been better than that travesty! I wanted to have a good time with you, not a terrible time with them!"

"You can still have a good time with me...." He put that little puppy-dog look in his eyes, and he let himself smile, showing off his little dimples that she was so enamored with, as the blush climbed across her cheeks.

"Oh, can I?"

Her husky voice had his pants tightening over his hips....

“Maybe it would be better to say that I would really like to have a good time with you, sweetness….” He let his voice slip down a few notes, letting it rumble and roll in his chest. He loved the way her eyes went wide and her breath seemed to stop. 

She started to reach across the center console, and suddenly the car seemed too small. 

“If you want me….”

_ Gulp _ . 

“Yeah, sweetness…?”

“CATCH ME FIRST!” She threw herself against the passenger door, fingers flicking the lock-latch up as she nearly tore the handle off the frame. The door swung violently, nearly knocking against the next car in its designated space in the cavernous garage. 

He blinked.

He swallowed. 

He started slamming his hands against the button on the seatbelt, irritated beyond belief that it seemed he was somehow incapable of manipulating the idiotic piece of plastic. He finally managed to make the thing obey his insistent demands, and he launched himself out of the car too, leaving both doors hanging open. 

He thought the keys might have landed in the floorboard or something.

He’d figure it out later.

His Queen wanted to play a game….

* * *

Once she was around the corner from the kitchen, out of sight of the door into the garage and her hunting husband, she started to tiptoe, moving quietly, soooooo quietly, hoping he wouldn’t be able to track her. She knew exactly where she was going, and if she could just get there, she’d be able to bring the King of the Underworld to a squirmy, swooning mess….

Just a few more steps….

_ Dammit. _ The door was closed. 

She wrapped her fingers around the handle as silently as she could, moving little faster than a glacier, but she managed to twist the piece of iron without it making more than the smallest of  _ snick _ s against the jamb. She slipped into the crack as soon as it was just barely wide enough for her hips and chest, and pushed it closed again, satisfied now that she had just enough time....

The dim lighting in this room couldn’t hide the glinting of the various pieces of gods-forged metal and the soft shimmers of spell-bound leathers and cloth….

* * *

He prowled through the hallway leading out of the kitchen, following the trail of her light floral scent. He was justifiably proud that his feet in their hard-heeled dress shoes made barely a scuff every few steps on the stone and wood beneath him. 

It may have been milleniums since his mother had taught him to stalk the wild things and admire their natural gifts and beauty, but some things….

Some things you never forget….

He shook his head hard, refocusing as he passed the rumpus room. The dogs were engrossed in some tug of war or something, and he moved past the wide open double doorway like a panther, so as not to attract their attention. 

No sense in the hunter becoming hunted by other creatures….

He only made it a few more steps before he realized….

The faint traces of her perfume and flowery springtime self were fainter than before.

_ Dammit. Musta gone the wrong way…. _

He turned around, doubling back. 

Past the rumpus room. 

Past the kitchen.

Down the next hall.

_ Yep. She came this way.  _

_ Ooooooooooh. _

_ Minx. _

The door to his armory was barely pushed to, not latched. 

They always made sure to latch it. Cerberus had a nasty habit of leading the other dogs in terribly messy games of “catch the winky lights like cats” on what passed for bright days here in the Underworld. 

_ I’ve got you now…. _

* * *

She watched him as he moved like a hunting panther to the barely closed door. She loved the way his pants moved over his backside, the way his slightly rumpled shirt tensed over his shoulders as he reached to push the door open as silently as she had. He slipped in there, and didn’t even bother to close the door back. 

She dragged the remaining slipper off her foot, tossing it through the crack in the door beside her. It was just a linen closet, but damned if it didn’t make a good hiding place for clothing when she needed to surprise her man.

He’d never even figured out that that’s how she managed it….

_ He’ll never see me coming…. _

Her bare skin broke out in goosebumps as she pushed off the cold wall and creeped the few long steps over to the open armory door. She slipped inside, waiting for just the right moment to slam the door shut behind herself. 

_ Wait until he realizes what’s missing. _

_ Besides me…. _

_ You have no idea what’s coming for you, my King…. _

* * *

He kept close to the wall as he scanned the room, noting every shadowed space, every corner and potential hiding place for his petite little goddess. But the room was emptier than a tomb; the only figures were the frame-built stands that held his cuirasses and chain mail, the coat trees draped in cloaks and capes and unfolded himations….

He scanned back over the room again, double-checking.

He finally saw the gap along the far wall; the thin spindle of a pedestal was bare, as bare as his own head….

_ Awwww, shit, the kunee’.  _

The door slammed shut, and he jumped away from the wall, landing with legs splayed in a quite undignified manner half-turned to his left so he could keep his eyes scanning over the area to either side of the door. He nearly held his breath, trying to give himself the muted silence to hear her footsteps. 

But hard as he tried, there was nothing.

There should have been something, a small scuff of the sole of that cute little slipper on the bare marble floor….

Unless….

_ Unless she took them off…. _

Just the thought of her tiny feet, pink and bare but yet unseen and unseeable on the polished black marble floor had his pants drawing tighter around his hips. He shuddered a breath as he realized how well and truly ensnared and ensorcelled he was by the thought….

A soft whisper of a giggle floated through the air from somewhere nearly behind him. He rose from his splay-legged stance slowly, trying for dignified and regal, trying to regain some control in this space that reminded him heavily of how truly powerful he had been….

Until a little pink thing smelling of flowers with the tiniest-cutest-most-precious feet he’d ever seen turned his life upside down and left him a smiling love-struck idiot of a god. 

He heard pounding steps, and then she was on his back, climbing up the planes of his shoulder-blades like a monkey, and he was staggering forward under the unexpected assault. She finally seemed to gain her perch, both hands wrapped around his eyes and her chin resting on the top of his head. 

Her breasts pressing against the back of his neck. 

Her tummy molded around the muscles of his upper back.

Her tiny bare feet locked into the space at the top of his hips, supporting her weight through his center of gravity.

He gulped, loudly, and started panting. 

_ “Hades, guess who…?!” _

He chuckled. Just once. What harm to humor her whimsy?

“Some conniving mortal witch with a penchant for theft of possessions and assault of a King?”

Her laugh was loud and piercing over his head, but he didn’t take advantage. He let her decide how this would go down. 

Even after all this time, he still needed to make sure she felt safe with him like this. 

“Almost! Some conniving little _goddess_ with a penchant for _borrowing_ things and _playing_ with her King!”

“Oh, my apologies.”

“So, walk forward.” 

“Can’t see, sweetness.”

“And yet, _walk forward.”_

So he did. A few hesitant steps, marvelling at the way she balanced on him; the mild pressure and pain from her tiny feet jamming into his waist above his hipbones somehow turned him on even more; the tent in his pants was beyond obvious, and he only hoped she wouldn’t be too distracted to forget to give him directions, blind as he was under her control.

“Stop.”

He did. 

He felt a brush of power, and he heard the door creak open slowly.

“Walk.” So he did. The door clicked closed behind them, as she turned him just by leaning a little; he continued walking down the hall, knowing he was going toward their bedroom, but unable to remember just how far it was, really.

She leaned again, and he turned to keep them upright. She giggled a little as she felt him smile under her hands, and he huffed out a breath with her, concentrating hard on not letting his sense of balance get away from him. 

All of a sudden, she twisted violently, throwing herself off him. He snatched his eyes open and lunged in the direction she’d launched toward, but he still couldn’t see her. The bed by his knee, though: the bed  _ FLOOMPHED _ mightily as something crashed down onto the mattress, and flower petals careened into the air like coins bouncing off the skin of a drum. 

He regained his balance before he fell onto the bed from his lunge, and he felt a stupid grin slide over his face as some of the petals landed on air, above the sheets where they should have rested. Some of them, farther away from where he stood, rose and dipped gently in a rhythmic motion.

He realized vaguely that they were resting on the peaks and valleys of her chest and were moving with the steady motions of her breathing. 

The faint outline of her body pressed into the dark sheets, and he stared at the indentation of her head, the extra lines from his helmet making a familiar shape look alien to his memory’s images of her.

“Husband, you wanted to have a good time with me?”

He just growled a little, lost beyond the trappings of civilization at the invisible vision before him and all the carnality her actions had so far implied. 

“Shirt, off. Pants, off. Underpants, off. Now, King Aidoneus….”

His hands couldn’t move fast enough, and his eyes couldn’t look away from where hers should be staring back at him. Blindly, he finally got everything off to her satisfaction, and her sigh told him all he needed to know.

He began to move onto the bed, but then a pressure was on his stomach, just a few inches above his navel.

A tiny oblong shape, half the size of his hand.

Kneading the muscles on his stomach with miniscule toes….

He groaned loudly, begging her invisible self with his eyes, needing to touch, to worship, to have and hold and kiss and lick and….

The twin to the foot on his stomach tickled lightly over his throbbing length, and he lost it….

He rocked back, grasping the unseen ankle of the foot that had been massaging his abdomen, and kneeling, he planted a grinding kiss into the arch of the sole of that soft little thing. He felt her squirm at the tickling touch, but he locked one hand tight around her ankle and moved the other farther up toward her knee, so he’d have a little more warning if she lost control and accidentally tried to kick him. 

He kept kissing, covering her foot with affection and need and want, until she snatched her foot away. Bereft, he whimpered.

But then her lips were smashing against his, and he reached up with both hands to wrap her into his embrace. Her hands scrabbled like mice against his torso until she managed to get them up beyond her shoulders and his, and though his eyes were closed, he knew what she was doing when she tilted her head just so, making it harder to keep kissing her. 

One of the edges of the face-plate of the helmet scraped along his cheekbone, but the pain was nothing in the wake of the pleasure of her lips on his. The crashing sound of the helmet hitting the floor somewhere in the room was nothing compared to the heat of her breath on his skin. 

He leaned forward, rising back to his feet, lowering her to the bed, still trapped in his arms. He rested his weight on his elbows, and she started tracing patterns that meant nothing over the muscles of his chest. He groaned a little as his nerves flickered and sparked under her touch, and he finally opened his eyes.

Her glowing pink face and gleaming eyes met his marvelling gaze, and he could only mouth the words he would want to say and hear every day for the rest of his immortal existence. 

“I. Love. You.”

She mouthed them back before lunging up to capture his mouth again. 

And then one tickling tiny pink hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock, and her legs were spread, and she placed the tip of him at her entrance; he couldn’t have stopped her, and he didn’t stop himself. 

He rocked his hips forward, hard, once, and felt her quiver beneath him as he filled her in the single motion. 

She broke from the kiss, gasping hard and mewling out sounds that had no meaning but _pleasure._ He kept kissing, but everywhere on her upper body that he could reach. Neck. Collarbone. Ears. Barely reached the tops of her breasts, but still managed it without having to move from where he braced on his elbows. Neck again. Forehead. The tip of her tiny nose.

And the whole time, he rocked back and forth inside her, slowly, feeling the ache build and the fiery liquid everything pool behind his groin. 

Until she clamped down on him when he was at her deepest point, her back arching and a loud gasp flying from her open mouth. He had to stop, couldn’t move, as her silken walls began to flutter around the length of him.

He felt a spurt of wetness rush out of her, and he groaned loudly. 

She clamped again, and he couldn’t stop it.

He pushed forward just a little more, feeling her body convulse a little as her pleasure intensified, and he spilled into her with a gasping whimper, riding the shock waves as her walls pulsed around him, drawing every drop from him as if it was her job. 

And then tiny toes tickled along the back of his quivering calf muscle, and he spasmed, crying out loudly as his cock twitched inside her; he nearly collapsed, but he managed to keep from crushing her. 

And she giggled…!

_ “Minx….” _ He growled, but he knew it was unimpressive. He was absolutely breathless and all but boneless. 

“Only for you, my King…. Did you have fun…?”

He chuckled, trembling as he leaned down to kiss her again. He barely managed to get the words out around her devouring response.

“The most fun I’ve ever had after Sunday brunch, I think….”

**Author's Note:**

> One final note:
> 
> Myself and other fanfic writers have recently been made aware that some readers of the canon (and fics based upon the canon) of Lore Olympus believe that Rachel is “stealing” ideas from us. 
> 
> Allow me to be blunt:
> 
> Nothing could be less true. 
> 
> Any similarity between my works of fanfiction (and those of other fic-writers) and the Lore Olympus canon is due to the authors’ use of common source material, in the form of Greek myths, as well as being a devoted superfan and paying attention to Rachel’s carefully-placed and exquisitely-crafted details. Any time there is an overlap of plot, even to the point of a single iota or detail, it is only due to coincidence or careful work on the fanfic author’s part. 
> 
> When these details show up in canon, the fanfic authors - myself included - feel nothing but joy upon having guessed correctly. 
> 
> All of this to say - fanfiction is fiction-produced-by-fans-for-fan-consumption-from-an-overabundance-of-fandom-love. No one is stealing anything from anyone. 
> 
> Ever and always, the characters, settings, specifics of plot, and details of design all are borrowed temporarily from Rachel Smythe for my work herein as a fanfiction creator. I hope you've enjoyed, and thank you for playing, once more, in my headspace.... 
> 
> -Swoonie, 30 March 2020


End file.
